Century Dreamers
by IsshiNene
Summary: We weren't meant to be in my time. But in yours… that's another story. Historical/Modern!AU
1. Yōkan

A commotion was building in the town.

The young lord took careful consideration to avoid eye contact with the crowd of women bustling past him, keeping his sights trained in front of him but his ears tuned. The bored husbands and fathers who were left behind posted in front of dark-stained slats and open street shops moved too, bothering to do with their heads what their legs couldn't by turning ever so slightly towards the direction of attention with solemn curiosity. Those who watched the flutters of embers dance upon the scales of mackerels grimaced, not from the slightly baked flesh on the bridges of their noses, but from the chilling winds of the tenth month that nudged Isshiki's sandals to a halt on the stone path.

Suddenly, he found the subtle caress of his exquisite kimono hem shackling around his ankles. As his muscles fell sick under the wind, his shoulders dropped under the heaviness of the air. Each breath felt foreign to his lungs as if an unwelcome presence contaminated his body from the inside out. However, nothing about the streets that he had roamed since he was a child looked different. The same old maples, the hues of autumn, and scents of dry wood and thatch all reminded him of his family's domain. Isshiki's grip squeezed the knotted-bundled box harder, feeling the fabric compress and his knuckles bulge as if something about the world had threatened to steal what was special to him.

But he couldn't shake the instinct that something was already missing.

The small procession of servants following the honey-brunette halted as he did, taking care to move towards the edge of the path, leaving it free for the people to filter past. Isshiki observed as mothers walked closely with their young daughters, looking as if huddled under a single, imaginary parasol despite the large street. Rickshaw men pulled with less vigor; children and their games were absent; The normally pleasant smell of grilled _sanma_ left an acrid film in Isshiki's mouth; even the pesky merchants were quieter than usual.

"Tired, aren't you?" The dramatic flick of a wrist unfurled the intricate fan beside himself, as a draft blew towards the blonde's tendrils. Refocusing away from the busy street, a small smirk played on the edges of the lord's mouth, amused at his annoyed companion's attempt to be proven correct. Throughout their entire journey back to the city, Kuga had been insistent on reminding Isshiki about his distaste for his preferences of traveling by foot, and despite his friend's constant whining, he took no mercy in allowing unnecessary breaks.

"Not at all, Kuga-kun," Isshiki teased, but the man's crescent eyes faltered.

A huff and a pout followed, as all the man could do were roll his eyes to Isshiki's pleasure and watch the crowd along with him. "Well, _I am_. If I didn't know any better, I would think you were a peasant traveling like this." A sense of amusement filled Isshiki, as both he and Kuga himself knew that claim was false. If the weren't their clothing, it was the servants and their speech that exposed their nobility. Kuga was the second son of a prominent family specializing in Chinese and Japanese classics, in fact, his father was one of Isshiki's teachers. Despite his brash and lazy attitude, Kuga's inherited the family's talent as well.

A slight chuckle escaped as Isshiki let the short banter of his friend distract him from the unwarranted discomfort he was feeling. "No one forced you to come. It was my business that gave us the need to travel," he reminded.

"You know exactly why I came, Isshiki." The blonde glared before turning his attention to eye the servants stationed a distance away from their backs. "You think I would rather stay home and be smothered by my mother and the maids about matchmakers and marriage? No thanks," Kuga complained, making sure to keep his voice down from the attendants who so loved to spread gossip.

Isshiki couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as he too looked over his shoulder at his servants, understanding the man's change in volume. "You too, huh?" Isshiki sighed, lettings the memories of conversations regarding his future betrothal simmer in his heart. He couldn't understand why his clan had been so opposed to his first and only choice of wife, and for such a shallow reason as well. The sadness deep within his aquamarine eyes settled on the box to his side, feeling the knot slowly slacken from the constant pulling of the fabric — soon to fall apart.

"Isshiki-sama." The servant's call of his name brought the young lord back to reality, prompting his prior uneasiness to return. "I apologize for interrupting, but you are expected to return before sunset and we are currently running late."

The orange hue of the wispy clouds against the transitioning sky motioned Isshiki's head in agreeance and earned an exasperated sigh from Kuga as he flinched at the idea of further travel on his already tired feet.

"Kuga, stop complaining. We're almost back. We wouldn't have had to rush if you didn't take so many breaks anyways."

"Are you saying_ I'm_ the reason we're late?!" Kuga's eyes widened in disbelief. "We wouldn't be so late if _you_ didn't make a stop two towns over in order to buy a set of _youkan_!" he retorted, pointing accusingly at the wrapped box of confectionaries. "Red bean paste isn't even that good."

"Well, good thing these aren't for you," Isshiki smiled, proceeding to move through the crowd again.

"Who are they for then?"

"Someone special," Isshiki responded vaguely. They are for _her_. To the person who would never admit that these were her favorites. To the person he would offer his piece to when they were children, but of course, she would stubbornly refuse. To the person he needed an excuse to see.

A hum of suspicion sounded from Kuga as Isshiki felt the judgemental eyes of his peer on the back of his head. "That's unlike you, Isshiki. You must be really trying to impress someone," he teased. Deciding not to play into Kuga's obvious goad for information, the young lord was smart enough to act oblivious, much to his companion's annoyance. However, Isshiki was sure that if he wasn't facing forward, the subtle red-tinge on his cheeks wouldn't go unnoticed. Even with that response, he found himself temporarily taken by joy at the thought of her. How her face would betray her cold words, for she was a terrible liar. How her lips would gently upturn whenever she accomplishes a task. Her sighs whenever she's flustered but too prideful to ask for help. Her delicious cooking despite her sloppy chopping. Her obsession at beating him in _shogi_. How she looks at him; _sees him_. How she—

"Too bad. It's really unfortunate that had to happen." The words perked the young man's ears.

"Unfortunate? It was a miracle she even made it this far if you ask me. She wouldn't have lasted a day without her family's help."

Isshiki felt the brief collision of his smaller stature friend into his sternum but disregarded it as he searched for such missing voices in the street.

"Hey! If you're going to stop so suddenly, don't do it in front of me!"

His eyes scanned the area hurriedly, as the words of the passing women alerted him for some reason as if it were an explanation to his heightened sense of anxiety. But before any such face could be matched, the sudden turn of the young lord had caused the cloth wrap around the _youkan_ box to become completely undone, almost letting it's contents fall to the ground if it had not been for Isshiki's reflexes.

"Uwa! That was close." He breathed in relief, before refocusing his attention back to searching over the heads of the crowd for his answers.

"Isshiki-sama, is something wrong? Do we need to go back for something?" A servant had asked, concerned at Isshiki's sudden interest in the path behind them. Sensing his group's attention on him, he realized he had let too much of his worry slip. His mouth that hung agape and the blue eyes that glimmered widely closed as he smiled away his recent commotion._ It's just town gossip. _He lied to himself behind his calm demeanor. _Stop being so paranoid._

"No, sorry. Let us get going."

* * *

The lively pitter-patter of footsteps on wooden floors accompanied the presence of morning dew in the Isshiki household. Colorful squares of silk and brocade textiles danced in the halls as maids flooded to the quarters of the young lord at his request. Isshiki had made it his first agenda since returning the night before to deliver his souvenir, but for as important the contents of his gift was, the wrapping would be just as crucial. Finally, when the _futsuma_ doors finished sliding open and closed with the last of the maids bowing her head in exit, a wealth of vibrant and ornate cloth laid in front of him. Scanning his eyes over the array of deep reds, purples and golds; embroidered fruits, animals, and enough flowers to imitate a small garden, Isshiki raised a hand to his chin, contemplating the selection.

"Sakaki-san, Yoshino-san, which one do you find the most beautiful?" He inquired, directing the question to his two, caught off-guard attendants. The two women looked towards the gleeful but tired-looking young man. For what they knew, the slightly darkened skin under his eyes could be dismissed as simply fatigue from travel, but to Isshiki, they were the results of his sleepless night. Ever since yesterday, something about his return had bothered him. But he had hoped visiting _her_ would settle his qualms. The two women turned their attention to the fabrics neatly folded in display on the _tatami_ mats. As time passed with each one contemplating in silence, the pair met an agreeance.

"This one," Ryoko answered, picking up the cloth gently. "It has very finely embroidered dragonflies and chrysanthemums. The fabric was woven and treated with the utmost quality giving it a lovely sheen in the light. The vibrant crimson is also great for autumn gifts." Unfurling the wrap into its full view, Isshiki hummed in the midst of critiquing the details the woman had pointed out, finding both her and Yoshino's choice in design extremely tasteful. A nod of agreeance shook Isshiki's head, but his intentions of refolding the square back into quarters did not match his actions.

"I agree, it is the most aesthetically pleasing of the set. But, it's not quite what I'm looking for," he reasoned, finding the confused faces of Sakaki and Yoshino amusing. Before they could ask what his explanation meant, Isshiki continued. "The visual aspect isn't the only important factor of beauty. In fact, in this case, it is the least. The fabric you chose is exquisite, but it is too smooth." The brunette demonstrated, running his fingers over the length of the silk. "The embroidery is too fine to be distinguishable; it lacks character." Passing the square back to the pair, both of them ran their fingers gently, just as he did before, understanding Isshiki's words.

Again, the silence returned, as all three resumed their search. A sparkle shined in Ryoko's eyes once more, as she excitedly picks out another candidate for her lord to inspect.

"How about this one, Isshiki-sama?" Taking the folded square into his grasps, Isshiki ran his hand over the royal purple brocade, outlining the raised thread of the _momiji _embroidery. He imagined her doing the same, delicately roaming the wrap of the box, taking in every thread, seam, bump, and texture. How she too would trace the maple leaves, smiling at such recognizable shapes. Lifting the leaves to his face, the scent of time filled his nose in a pleasant way; a smell that read of maturity and elegance.

Looking up from the fabric, Isshiki greeted the two again with a smile and slightly crinkled eyes, congratulating Ryoko on her successful selection. The two, obviously excited by kind praise from the noble looked at each other proudly for their contributions, so much so, they had almost forgotten to bow at the comment in their cheerful celebration. However, before that lasted long, the two were shocked back into reality as the young lord laid the fabric gently on the floor and began wrapping the _youkan_ box.

"I— Isshiki-sama! We can wrap that for you! Please leave such menial tasks to us!" Yuki stuttered.

A laugh escaped Isshiki's lips at the surprise of the women. "Do not worry, I don't find such tasks menial. Please indulge me by letting me wrap this, it is for someone special to me."

"Special? Who would deserve such an honor?" The younger of the two maids asked, earning a reprimanding elbow nudge from Ryoko for asking such an intrusive question.

"Yoshino-san," Isshiki began, "do you remember the young maiden who came to visit two days ago?"

Taking a pause, the two thought back to two nights prior, when a noblewoman had paid the young lord an unexpected visit before his departure.

"Kinokuni-sama?" she recalled, cautiously.

"Yes, these _youkan_ are for her. They are her favorite." Isshiki announced, securing the knot tightly over the box with one final pull.

Yuki's mention of the eastern clan alerted Ryoko. "Isshiki-sama? Is she the blind maiden of the Kinokuni clan?" The fuchsia-haired woman spoke before she could catch such curious words from her tongue. Now, it was Yuki's turn to nudge her fellow maid.

The two noticed a slight dip in the noble's smile, as both worried their questions had gone too far. "I guess you could describe her like that," Isshiki acknowledged, "but she has so much more interesting things about her than that."

"Forgive me…" Sasaki bowed.

"Don't worry about it," Isshiki quickly laughed, sensing a growing discomfort and worry from his attendants, similar to the aura from yesterday's streets. "I'm sure she would describe herself the same way despite what I say," he added.

"Isshiki-sa—"

"Thank you so much Sakaki-san, Yoshino-san,' he interrupted gently, disliking the tenseness of the atmosphere. Deciding it was easier to end the conversation rather than to continue to worry his attendants, Isshiki quelled his returning uneasiness from the day before.

"I'm sure she'll like these," he assured both the pair and himself.

* * *

The town was in chaos.

The previous unease that Isshiki had sensed since his return yesterday morphed into growing anger at the peak of the sun's presence that noon. For his short excursion, the young lord found himself peacefully unaccompanied; without his friend's ongoing complaints or servant's faces that reflected a concern that worried him. The streets were just as busy are he remembered, but instead of gossips and gasps, the air hummed with unsettling incoherent mumbles. The commotion stagnated as if the rush to the event was over. The husbands and fathers sat with steepled fingers on their store-front stools, not turning in curiosity but with eyes blankly trained to their front in deep thought. Even the embers refused to dance on the mackerel skin, choosing to sink sluggishly down into the white-hot charcoal instead.

As Isshiki made his way through the district, he approached the bridge near the edge of town. At least what he thought was the bridge. The normally quiet passage accompanied by the soothing sound of the rushing river was now a mass of angry townspeople, pushing and shoving near the bridge's gate in a noisy riot. Instinctually, Isshiki held the box closer to him, as he sought for a way to break the commotion and seek what was preventing the travels through the domain.

"Ah, Isshiki-dono!" He heard a familiar voice call. Emerging from the blob of protesting merchants and townspeople, two fishermen approached him, with poles and all. "Please do something about this!"

"What is happening?" Isshiki asked the pair. Shoji Sato and Daigo Aoki helped to run the town's fishery, but more importantly, they were loyal friends and supporters of the Isshiki clan. He had gotten to know both of them as a child since his father had an interest in fishing. Often when he was young, he would accompany his father as he went leisure fishing with Sato and Aoki's parents.

"Police have been monitoring all the passageways around town since this morning because of the investigation. They aren't letting people through. We have our quota that we need to meet by the end of the day, Isshiki-dono!"

_Investigation?_ He could feel his brows furrowing together as the pleas of his friends echoed in his mind. Watching the crowd behind the pair, he witnessed a heated argument between the travelers and guards, ultimately resulting in the guard's unwavering decision to deny passage.

"Why did this whole thing have to happen in these parts, of all places!"

"Hey, that's rude, Daigo." Shoji warned, apologizing to Isshiki for the distasteful comment, although the lord didn't understand why it was.

"Sorry, but it's really inconvenient, you know? Don't you wonder where her attendant was? Quite foolish to let a girl like her roam around by herself, especially at night! Now, look!" Daigo paused, turning back around to the havoc.

"I guess," Shoji conceded, "what do you think, Isshiki-dono?" The two stared in wait of the noble's response, and all Isshiki could do was return the look in confusion.

"I'm not sure…" Despite the contents of their discourse going completely over the brunette's head, he was beginning to feel that his state of unrest ever since his return wasn't unwarranted.

"If you ask me," Daigo surveyed his surroundings carefully, before moving in closer to a whisper, "the poor blind girl stumbled into the water herself."

_The poor blind girl._

_Poor blind girl._

_Blind girl._

_Blind._

The young lord recoiled at the mention of such words, nearly snapping his attention back to the two in a whiplash. "What are you talking about?" Isshiki demanded with eyes wide and posture stiff. Both Shoji and Daigo were taken aback by the sudden burst of emotion from the normally cool-headed Isshiki. The two were dumbfounded, fumbling over their words as they tried to answer their lord's intense burning orbs of distress and shallow breathing.

Impatient with the two, Isshiki pushed past the fishermen, abandoning them to his back as he desperately yelled through the crowd to get out of his way. Grumbles and annoyed complaints sounded through the sea of people as they parted for the aggressive lord, but eventually, the young man made his way to his own challenging of the head guard.

"The bridge is closed, sir." A sheathed sword met the front of Isshiki's chest, halting his path directly in front of the man he wished to speak to.

With head downcasted to the weapon across from him, Isshiki took a grip of the sheath menacingly. "I am the son of the lord of this region. On whose authority are you blocking this bridge?" Isshiki yelled. His fist balled around the knotted fabric of the dessert box, loosening the fabrics hold once more as he was unable to hide behind his facade and convince himself that he was overreacting.

"We—" The guard stuttered in Isshiki's presence. "We have permission from our own lord and the lord of this region to block the entrances and exits into the city as the police conduct their investigation."

"Investigation of what?!" he pressed.

The guard looked astounded at the young lord's question, just as his servants, maids and the fishermen had before. The same feelings of unease and concern. The same clear eyes that reflected the image of his own worried face. The same expression that did nothing but confirm his intuitions.

"Lord Kinokuni's daughter was found dead in the lake at the edge of town yesterday."

The wooden box of youkan fell to the cold, hard ground as the knotted cloth gave way one final time.

* * *

AN: I'm not dead! Sorry for the long hiatus, life has been REALLY busy lately. But, during the time I couldn't write, I had this little idea for a multi-fic in my head :) It was such a struggle to write creatively again, but I hope my rustiness didn't make this too jarring to read. ALSO, I am not a historical Japan expert or anything of the sort, so there are inaccuracies, please bear with me! I hope you enjoyed and if you did, please leave a nice review or comment!


	2. Disappear

He woke up with a start. Greeted by the darkness of a sun that had yet to rise, Satoshi's grip on his covers slowly slackened as his eyes adjusted to the familiar scene of his apartment. Heavy breathing filled the silence. A thin bead of sweat ran down the young man's face, matting messy curls to his forehead. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he squinted slightly to read the red, faint-glowing numbers of his alarm clock.

_3:26 AM?_

Defeat overcame his body as he realized he had fallen victim to another consecutive nightmare. Sinking back into the mattress, Satoshi groaned as fatigue settled in with him as well. An open palm rested over his eyes, blocking enough of the ambient light to leave Satoshi to his thoughts. If it weren't for the tension in his shoulders and his lack of breath, it was almost as if the nightmare never existed. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember anything about the dreams; about who was there or what unsettled him. For what his mind lacked in memories, his body remembered. The knot in his stomach tightened and his hand kept curling and uncurling as if to hold onto nothing but the darkness and air. For the past month or so, three a.m. had become the norm, with a fleeting nightmare as his new alarm.

By the time the blaring sirens of his actual alarm sounded, the brunette had already been tossing and turning for three hours prior. Reaching over to achieve his much-desired silence, all hopes of a good night's rest disappeared along with the alarm's sound. Satoshi shuffled across his room to open the curtains, letting the morning rays burn his eyes in the process. A shower. Coffee. Clothes. Breakfast. Nothing fell out of the usual routine, but the lack of sleep had made even his precious mornings feel like hell recently. The shower was too hot; the coffee too bitter; his clothes suffocating and his breakfast bland.

During his meal, Satoshi took the time to do his usual round of emails and messages, ignoring the several texts from his family inquiring about his next visit home. Some further scrolling revealed daily news articles and updates with which he quickly skimmed through: calls for a neighborhood night watch, the appointment of a new district superintendent, missing pet notices, the reopening of the old footbridge, and some community congratulations for recent marriages and births.

Unimpressed by the lackluster start to his day, Satoshi finished his second coffee and moved the plates to the sink, grabbed his briefcase, and set out, readying himself for another, normal day.

* * *

Finishing his last set of paperwork, a sigh of relief left Isshiki. Leaning into his office chair, he rested his eyes, squeezing them shut to rinse his mind of a dirty headache. Thoughts of his nightmare came to mind — of the series of dreams he had been having lately. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were the same dream or at least connected to each other in some way. The idea troubled him as he seemed unable to recount a single detail, let alone a thread linking each night together. _What had upset me so much? What happened? Where was I? What was I doing? Who was—_

"Senpai? Uh, hello? Senpai… Isshiki-senpai!" Aquamarine eyes snapped wide open at the call of his name, only to see the worried expression of his junior beside him.

"Soma-kun!" Sitting up too quickly, the wheels of his chair jerked backward. Swiveling, Satoshi addressed the red-head in as much of a composed manner as he could, despite his earlier startling. "What's wrong, Soma-kun?"

Soma slightly flicked up his wrist, letting the rustling of the papers in his hand catch Isshiki's attention. "You asked for these, right?"

"Oh," the brunette smiled, grabbing the paper. "Thanks, Soma-kun!" As Isshiki gently tapped the papers together over his desk and reached for a paperclip, Soma's continued presence surprised him. "Is there something you need, Soma-kun?"

"Senpai… what were you mumbling about earlier?" Soma asked, words laced with curiosity.

"Mumbling?"

"Yeah, you were going on about something."

Caught off guard by Soma's statement, Satoshi's eyes widened ever so slightly as he realized he had been speaking his thoughts aloud. Quickly searching for an excuse under Soma's inquisitive eyes, Satoshi noticed the small pile of library books resting beside his paperwork. "Oh uh, I was just thinking about my plants! My… my tomatoes died recently, so I was trying to figure out what happened… what was I doing wrong, you know?" Isshiki laughed off.

"Gardening, huh?" Soma asked, picking up and flipping through the book on trimmings and tree pruning. "You really seem into that stuff."

"Yeah," Satoshi smiled, letting his eyes crinkle, "If you're interested, those are good beginners' books! You should check them out."

"I'll ask Tadokoro about them the next time I head to the library! Oh yeah, by the way, Tadokoro and Takumi came back from Italy a couple of days ago, so the guys and I are gonna go drinking after work, wanna come?" The sound of alcohol made Isshiki's stomach churn, as he already had a lack of appetite due to his tiredness.

"Sorry, Soma. Maybe another time." Isshiki apologized.

"Are you alright, Senpai? You normally love to go drinking with us. Going on about youth and all that. You've also been looking tired lately…"

"It's nothing that serious, Soma-kun!" He tried to reassure, noticing his junior's worried tone. "You see...There's a new variety special on tonight that I want to watch!" It wasn't as if he felt his dreams were too private of a matter to share, he just didn't want the others to worry about his lack of sleep. He was sure that the sleepless nights would go away any day now, so the last thing he wanted was his coworkers to be concerned about his health.

A pause was held, as Soma considered Isshiki's excuse.

"Oh!" Soma revelated. "The one about the animal videos, right! I love that one too! I see, I see. So Senpai isn't a DVR-type of person, huh!"

Isshiki couldn't help but sigh in relief, unsure if he was amused by his successful white lie or how typical of a response Soma managed to give.

* * *

By the time Isshiki had finished processing Soma's paperwork, the rest of his peers had gone home. Loosening his tie a bit, he sat in the silence of the office, letting his fixation on the nightmares return. _There was always something that happened… to someone, that always made me feel uneasy. But who were they? They say people who occur in dreams are people who we've met before. Was it a family? A friend? A random face?_

Walking along the usual road he takes back to his apartment, Satoshi lingered at the crosswalk. Remembering that the small bridge over the river had opened back up, Satoshi hesitated at the green lit-up man. Holding up his watch under the dim street lights, he read the hands to be around eight-thirty. Realizing he was running much later than usual, Satoshi decided to turn the corner instead, heading towards the bridge which would hopefully shave off some time from his route back.

The change in his route did nothing to deter his prior thoughts. While climbing the road to the west end of the bridge, his eyebrows bunched together as he thought hard about a face, any face that he could recall from his dreams. Letting his hand guide him along the bridge's railings, he shut his eyes and walked forward slowly as he focused on a grainy thought. The image of a slender outline was faint. Her face was hard to see since her body was turned away from him — her profile visible. The wisps of her long, celadon hair flowed freely in the gentle wind, appearing silver in the moonlight. The image of her slightly grew in clarity as Satoshi became more enamored by the stranger in his thoughts. It was only until he saw her head shift slightly to what was below her, that he noticed her figure standing calmly on the thin railing, overlooking the far drop to the waters below.

He paused a distance away from the woman, realizing that the darkness of his shut eyes had in reality been the darkness over the bridge and that the vision was not a vision at all. Her growing clarity was due to his slow shufflings forward. The shadows over her face were not the shadows of his mind.

By the time he was running, he had finally managed to realize that the magnificent, moon-dipped celadon hair disappearing over the rails was not a dream, but real — a true nightmare.

* * *

AN: Hey guys! I still intend on continuing this story! So even if updates are slow (I'm sorry! I'm trying to work on it before I head back to school), please know I won't give up on a story unless I state otherwise! I hope you all enjoyed reading (and that this plot is not too confusing) and please stay safe, healthy, and happy!


	3. Past and Pleas

***IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ!***

I tried to find a workaround, but it was impossible. Since this is a historical/modern!AU, I need to refer to the historical versions of all the characters by different first names as to not mix them up with their future counterparts. If you read chapter one again, you can see that I really tried to avoid calling them by their first names, but it is simply impossible to do that in this chapter. So just to clarify upfront:

Isshiki Akira = Isshiki Satoshi

Kinokuni Neika = Kinokuni Nene

Tadokoro Aya = Tadokoro Megumi

I explain the names more in-depth along with other Japanese words or concepts at the end of the chapter if you are interested or confused. Please enjoy!

* * *

"What were you thinking!" The young lord remained silent in his father's presence, as he deemed the older Isshiki's words as more of a reprimand than a legitimate question. It annoyed him more than anything to have to answer to his own family, especially when he felt there had been no injustice in his actions. The obnoxious smell of his father's _sake_ habit almost suffocated him as much as the Isshiki clan itself, and it was times like this that painfully reminded him that he was the eldest son of a _daimyo_. Akira knelt in front of the lord of the Isshiki domain and patiently waited for his father's wrath to subside.

Despite Akira's attempt to keep a calm demeanor, his silence spoke volumes to the elder. For as little time the two had spent together, Lord Isshiki could read the overflowing disrespect from his son. The boy's hard eyes and straight mouth; his tense shoulders and hands that rested on his thighs signaled nothing more than a growing frustration and anger — emotions that had been threatening to burst ever since the death of Kinokuni Neika a month prior.

"Answer me, boy!" The older man yelled. His fist pounded on the low table between the two, startling his wife sitting quietly off to the side.

Slowly, Akira's eyes raised up from the _tatami_ mats and offered narrow eyes. "I just wanted information. I do not see an issue with my inquiry," his measured voice spoke.

"That is exactly the problem! Do you understand how your continued investigation can affect the clan? If it is reported to the other _hans_ that you sought an audience with the magistrate, it can be interpreted as direct defiance against the decision to cease the investigation!"

He had expected that response, but it did not make him any less irritable. Again, he resigned himself to silence and waited for his father's onslaught of scoldings.

"Akira," his mother gently called, "please answer his lordship."

For his mother's sake, he managed a mutter, "It was defiance…"

"What was that?"

He repeated his words to the tatami mats once more.

"I have no patience for you! Speak up!" His father demanded.

"It was defiance!" Akira seethed. "It was defiance against that absurd decision that I don't agree with! Nothing about her death makes sense, your lordship! How could there be no witnesses at all? Where was her attendant? She always had someone accompanying her!" He enunciated each word clearly and ensured every ounce of his agitation could be heard by the eavesdropping servants in the next room.

* * *

~11 Years Ago~

He didn't understand why they had to follow from a distance. The attendant reasoned that the young lady could hear their voices and recognized their scent if they got too close. It was a valid concern, but even Akira questioned if she could be that perceptive in a marketplace that crowded. But regardless of what he believed or not, he couldn't jeopardize Neika's precious request.

_"It's too dangerous on your own, Neika," Her father had reasoned._

_ "But Father, Aya-san is allowed to go by herself. I believe I am responsible enough to —"_

_ He could hear the audible sigh of her father from the other side of the fusuma doors. From it, he could imagine the expression of turmoil at the mention of her younger cousin's name, and he was sure Neika could get the feeling as well._

_ "Aya is not blind…" Lord Kinokuni's tongue seemed to get stuck on the last of his words as he stopped abruptly — as if he wanted to add 'like you' to the end of that statement. "This is not up for discussion. If you wish to go to the marketplace, ask your attendant."_

_ There was a pause of silence following her dismissal, and Akira had wondered if she was too resigned to leave. As the long quiet drew on, curiosity got the better of him. Sliding the screen door ever so slightly, he caught a glimpse of her lantern-lit celadon hair._

_ The girl's head was to the floor, with hands placed neatly in front of her forming a bow. "Please Father, I have practiced how to navigate and walk by myself. Please allow me the chance to prove that I am not useless." The earnestness in the nine-year old's voice rang in Akira's heart as her father found difficulty refusing his precious daughter's plea._

_Before Akira could become too moved by the scene, the quick shift of the lord's eyes from Neika to his own scared the boy away from the crack in the wall. He had been caught. Before he could hear the rest of the exchange, Akira had already run back down the hall._

Obviously, Lord Kinokuni had agreed to Neika's request — to some degree. As consequences for his nosy behavior, the lord had also ordered Akira to accompany the attendant as she followed Neika a few paces behind. Although he didn't enjoy getting found out, Akira didn't mind following her around if it meant her wish could be fulfilled.

It wasn't a difficult task either since her salmon-pink kimono and long, wooden walking stick stood out amongst the bustling crowd. It would be impossible to lose her. Or so he thought.

In the middle of the stall-packed marketplace, the traffic of cart-pullers had managed to push Neika's attendant off-balance. A distressed yelp escaped from the middle-aged woman as she fell flat on her butt in the middle of the dirt aisle.

"_Oba-san_, are you alright!" Akira shifted his attention behind him and lent a hand along with the other men who offered to help the embarrassed woman up.

"Yes, I'm fine," the attendant reassured, "Thank you, Akira-sama."

"Good thing we're far away from Neika-chan, or she would have heard…" The young lord trailed off mid-sentence, as he realized her pink kimono was nowhere in their sights.

A frantic search ensued. The attendant and he ran madly around the marketplace. Giving up the jig, he yelled her name in desperation. By the time they managed to search most of the mains streets, Akira noticed that the attendant was already out of breath. Whether it be her older age or the fact that she was about to have a heart attack, Akira left the woman behind to run the street corners himself. The back ends of the marketplace was hardly a place he familiarized himself with, and he doubted Neika could get herself lost within those parts. However, he continued running past every stall, weaving through houses and narrow passages, still unable to find any semblance of her familiar figure. An unusual panic grew in the normally cool-headed boy. He was sure the attendant was feeling such things as well. Unlike the attendant, he doubted the source of his unease was from the fear of Lord Kinokuni's rage, but from the thought of Neika being hurt alone somewhere. Before he could comprehend such feelings, he heard a familiar voice from nearby.

"Give it back!" Neika complained, holding both her arms out as she blindly chased the bullies for her walking stick.

"What's this? Are you gonna cast your spirits onto us, shaman girl?" The oldest village boy of the bunch taunted the stick in front of her. Just when Neika caught her senses and attempted to grab her possession, he quickly pulled it away with an ugly laugh.

"Give it back!" she continued to cry out in vain as the circle of boys kept up their sick game of keep away. Growing tired and disoriented from the bullies' antics, Neika's legs grew heavy causing her to trip and fall straight onto the dirt path of the alleyway, much to the boys' delight.

By the time Akira arrived, the vision of her on the ground was all that filled his mind. His lungs were already on fire, but it paled in comparison to his boiling blood.

"Neika-san!"

Her head turned to the source of her name, and so did the bullies. "Akira-kun?"

"What the hell do you want?" The head of the group snarled.

Ignoring the comment, Akira quickly found himself at Neika's side. "Are you alright?"

"What are you doing here?"

Akira hesitated, unable to come up with an excuse for his presence in the marketplace.

"Hey! You shouldn't get too close to her, she's probably been communicating with the dead recently." The boys jeered. It was enough to remind him of their current situation.

Standing protectively in front of her, the boy approached the group with a smile, trying to solve the commotion with peace. "Would you please give that back to her," Akira asked, offering the group an unsettling expression where his hard eyes mismatched his grin.

"No way," the bully spat, "This is too much fun."

"I'll ask one more time," his curved lips slowly relaxed into a straight line as his cyan orbs grew in intensity. "Give it back, or _else_."

"Or else what?" he repeated in a mocking tone before pushing Akira to the ground beside Neika. "You're gonna get angry? We aren't afraid of you."

"Akira-kun!" she cried at the sound of his hard fall. The lack of response from the young lord made her grow concerned until she heard a slight chuckle from the body next to her. The chuckle grew into full-on laughter from Akira.

"What's so funny? Are you crazy?"

Sitting up, Akira hugged his stomach from the pain of his laughing fit. "You think I'm going to get angry? The real person you should be afraid of when they get angry is her father. He could have all of you and your family beheaded by tomorrow morning."

The threat caught the bullies off-guard; just where he wanted them. "What are you going on about?"

"I don't care if you push me, but pushing the Great Lord's daughter is a different story."

At the mention of the domain leader, the children's eyes grew wide with fear. "She's… she's his lordship's daughter?"

"Would you like to find out tomorrow?" Akira smiled once more. Immediately, the boys dropped the stick to the floor. Kicking up the dirt, the group fled the scene as quickly as they could. Picking up Neika from the ground, he places her walking stick back in her hand, enclosing her delicate fingers around them.

"What are you doing here, Akira-kun?" Neika asked sternly.

"What? No 'thank you'? Or 'That was so amazing, Akira-kun!'" Akira replied cheekily.

She couldn't help but chuckle at his ridiculousness. "Even if I could have seen your deeds, you would not have looked as valiant as you think. There is no honorable hero among us, but I will thank the idiot that saved me."

His heart calmed at her snarky remark — more than enough indication that she was fine. "Are you saying I looked like an idiot?" Akira grinned, happy to see her beauty.

"I wouldn't call it anything else."

* * *

His father sighed at his son's adamant denial of the facts. "It had already been confirmed by both the Kinokuni estate and our maids that she had been unaccompanied the entire time. The night she arrived, no one was seen with her. The police concluded that she died long after the sun had set. It's reasonable for no one to have seen her."

"What about the bloodstains on her kimono sleeves?" Akira pushed, not allowing his anger subside in the presence of his father's repeated information.

"The girl was blind, Akira!" She probably ran into something and hurt herself before she fell into the pond." The man downed the remaining tea in his cup, irritated by the fact that it was not _sake_ to calm his annoyance. "She drowned. That's what happened. She's dead, son."

As if he needed the reminder of her passing. Nonetheless, the verbal confirmation didn't make his chest hurt any less. It hurt to have such turmoil in his heart, as he hardly let himself become so worked up. But it was hardly a pain he could let pass quietly.

"It was noted in the report that she had no open wounds on her body." Akira pointed out, reserved.

The pause from his father was all Akira needed to confirm the suspiciousness of Neika's death. "Don't get involved in this," was all his father could muster to his son's rebuttal, and for once, his words resonated with how they were intended — A plea.

"That isn't the only part of the report that was unexplainable." The plea fell on deaf ears. "She knew how to swim. Kinokuni-san wasn't the greatest at it, but she knew how to, nonetheless. Why would a person who knew how to swim, drown? It doesn't make any sense. The police report doesn't make any sense!"

"That is not for you to—"

"Why in the world was the investigation called off?" Akira continued. "How can you tell me to not get involved in this when everyone around me is twisting her lack of sight into her somehow lacking ability as well! Don't try to trick me with your convenient explanation for her death!"

* * *

~16 Years Ago~

Akira had known that Lord Kinokuni's daughter couldn't see, and it was a hard fact to ignore. Since the moment he arrived, servants would always be in her tow, helping her dress, to eat, to walk — to live. Because she couldn't join her cousin, Aya, in normal lessons like embroidery, dance, or _ikebana_, Neika was resigned to afternoons in the garden or listening to court verse and gossip from the maids. She was nothing but Lord Kinokuni's helpless flower.

One day, the estate held a dinner in celebration of the lord's return home. In the midst of the merry feast, Neika, who had been seated next to him, had accidentally knocked over her tray, spilling its entire content onto his and her lap. He didn't remember the loud gasps from the scene, and the servants who rushed over to make sure the young Isshiki lord was alright. He didn't remember his lordship telling both of them to quickly wash up and get changed; ordering the remaining servants to clean the mess. He didn't remember the child's continued apologies to the room and how her insistent bowing only sullied her clothes more. However, what he did remember and would never forget were the words that were uttered when the room thought they were far enough away.

_"Your lordship, I deeply apologize for that child," the lady of the house spoke. "I apologize for giving birth to such a hindrance."_

_He wondered if Neika had heard her mother's harsh words, but the girl had shown no surprise. "Let's hurry back, I heard dessert is youkan!" Akira said smiling, trying his best to cheer up the stoic girl. "I'll give you mine when we get back, so don't feel so down!"_

His wonderings were answered a couple of days later when she started to join his lessons. She wouldn't join in on discourse with the tutor, and she wasn't asked to read aloud or practice calligraphy as instructed by Lord Kinokuni. She never had questions, books, or scrolls with her, and she always came without the company of her usual servants. He found it peculiar to have a classmate. A girl, nonetheless. He had expected his previous teaching arrangements with a private tutor to continue even under the guidance of a new household, but the girl who sat quietly in the corner of the room proved him wrong. He didn't mind it though.

If anything he was impressed by her determination. Because she couldn't read the text aloud, she memorized the classics instead, making her servants read to her night after night like bedtime stories. She learned the stroke order of basic _kanji_ by practicing them on open palms; she could even write her name neatly in ink. Despite her pricked fingers, she taught herself how to sew a hem and even asked the kitchen staff to teach her how to cook simple recipes. In her free time, she learned how to play _shogi_ by visualizing the layout of the board, and would always challenge — and lose to him — in a match.

Before his arrival in the Kinokuni domain, Akira had always hated how he was fated to take over his father's clan. He hated how he was forced to amount to something he didn't want to be. But perhaps he was the blind one. Her will — her obsession — to amount to something no one ever thought she could be touched something deep within him, and unbeknownst to her, he found himself watching her, cheering quietly for her, and ultimately, falling in love with her.

* * *

All feelings of irritation, annoyance, and anger boiled down to the desire for the truth. Realizing there was no logical way to convince his father, the brunette grew desperate. "Please, reopen the investigation!" Akira pleaded. With fingertips together on the tatami mat, he bowed his head low to his father. He was more than willing to throw out his pride if it meant that this could be the last thing he could do for her.

"You know it is not within my power to do that. It's the affair of another domain." His father held firm.

"My lord, I ask you to reopen the investigation!"

"Do not make me repeat myse—"

"Father, reopen the investigation!"

"Akira!" The lord shouted with a mixture of anger and surprise. The child hardly ever referred to him as a father, and instead chose to approach their relationship as a vassal to his lord. It pained him that such familial bonds could only come through in such circumstances.

"Please, reopen the investigation!" Akira repeated once more, looking up from the floor to add, "If you can close it, you can reopen it. The magistrate said you were the one who sent the police away and—"

Before Akira could react to the table between them being flung to the side, a sharp pain spread across his cheek. He found himself knocked entirely to the floor. Quickly, his palm flung up to cradle the pulsating skin as he looked up from the floor to the towering figure with a raised hand.

"You insolent child! How dare you—" Akira winced, waiting for another strike. But none came, only the shrill voice of his mother.

"My lord, please! Forgive this child!" Reopening his eyes, Akira found his mother placed between both of them, defending his body with hers. "You must understand that Akira held feelings for Lord Kinokuni's daughter. He means no disrespect. He is only letting such youthful passions show."

* * *

~15 Years Ago~

Her reply was a glare. A piercing glare that somehow, even with sightless eyes, managed to find his from across the room. Neika's unusually beautiful pink orbs matched the hue of the rest of her face before she stormed out of the room followed by the parade of her servant's laughter and teases.

Perhaps writing a _waka_ poem to her wasn't the brightest idea, considering she couldn't read. But it had been an assignment from their teacher. So as the two sat together in creative thought, it was only natural for him to channel his feelings towards her. But still, he had not expected for the maids to read them aloud:

_Because of you,_

_ Even of this life I thought_

_ Hardly a thing to hoard,_

_ Now I find myself wishing,_

_ "Let, oh let it be long!"_

Embarrassment filled the children, and the audience of middle-aged women surrounding them did nothing to sink the emotions.

"Stop making fun of me!" Neika complained, believing he had purposefully written such words in order to make light of her. It had been his first confession — and rejection.

* * *

Slowly, the young lord picked himself up off the floor, assuring his mother's worried face before turning to meet his father's pointed finger. "Be lucky we are not suspects in this case! Be lucky _you_ aren't being interrogated right now!" His father warned, looking into his son's unwavering eyes. "You were last to have company with her—"

"Which is exactly why I know that something is not right here," Akira interjected.

"Shut your mouth!" The elder's voice exploded once more. Taking a moment to recollect the composure that his son seemed to have ease at disrupting, he pinched the bridge of his nose, forbidding himself from losing his temper once more. "This is my last warning for you to stay in your place." He said between gritted teeth. "The affairs of the Kinokuni domain are already causing trouble in the court and with the Azami movement backing the eastern factions, this is the perfect opportunity for them to gain an advantage over us."

"They can't pin this on us," Akira scoffed, "we have too many witnesses—"

"That's where you are wrong," it was his father's turn to interrupt. "Even if we had all the witnesses in the world, we would still be suspected since it happened in our domain. Be thankful that Lord Kinokuni asked us to stop our side of the investigation before things got ugly for us."

Akira's unwavering eyes faltered upon hearing Lord Kinokuni's name. Standing stunned, his father took the opportunity to move past his son to leave the room.

"Why…" Akira managed to whisper before the lord left, leaving the conversation to the backs of a father and son. "Why…" he repeated. It was the only word he could formulate.

"The loss of that child must have been too much for Lord Kinokuni. It was always known that she would bring misfortune to him, but to commit _harakiri_ over this…" The elder shook his head in disbelief. "It's too much. That abomination should have been cast out the moment she was born."

* * *

**AN**: Thank you for reading this chapter! I hope you all enjoyed it! I'm trying my best to write as much as possible, but if you can't tell, my writing has degraded to that of a seventh-grader and I have not recovered yet XD. For the record, I AM NOT A JAPANESE HISTORIAN! If I had to be completely historically accurate, Akira would not get away with half the things he said to his father… Please wait patiently for the next chapter!

Names: The kanji for "Satoshi" can also be read as "Akira." The first kanji in Nene's name is read as "Nei," therefore, adding the kanji for flower at the end of it makes her name reading "Neika," which also means 'restful flower.' Lastly, the kanji, "Megumi" can also be read as "Aya." Yes, I know that Nene and Megumi are not cousins in canon, but they both have hair braids so close enough…

Shamanism: The bullies make fun of Neika by referring to her as a shaman with supernatural powers. In feudal Japan, blind women were associated with spiritual capabilities. Young blind girls were often sent to training to become an _itako_ (spiritual mediums) in order to support themselves.

Poem: The poem is a real waka poem by Fujiwara no Yoshitaka and is the 50th poem in the Ogura Hyakunin Isshu. Fujiwara was sick when he wrote the poem and was already thinking about dying before he met his lover to whom the poem is about. Even though Akira was not dying, I felt his disdain for his clan and disinterest in his own life reflected this sentiment.

Vocab:

Daimyo - great lords who were vassals of the shogun

Hans - the territory of the daimyo

Fusuma - sliding door panels

Oba-san - aunt/aunty/older lady

Ikebana - the art of flower arrangement

Shogi - Japanese board game similar to chess

Waka - a type of poetry in classical Japanese literature

Harakiri - ceremonial disembowelment/ritual suicide/_seppuku_


End file.
